


Under Your Touch

by Spoodlemonkey



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: 2020-2021 NHL Season, Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Intimacy, Living Together, M/M, Massage, Post tonights game against the Habs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:07:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28746672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spoodlemonkey/pseuds/Spoodlemonkey
Summary: He lets out a happy groan as he flops down on his belly, arms spread wide. Mitch huffs out a laugh at the display, leaning over to press a kiss to his shoulder.
Relationships: Mitch Marner/Auston Matthews
Comments: 4
Kudos: 91





	Under Your Touch

**Author's Note:**

> I had some FEELS after the OT win against the Habs tonight, partially 'YES HOCKEY YES BOYS' but also 'WILL THEY STOP CROSSCHECKING???????' My dad had a lot to say about the jabs to the lower back too...loudly...so I just wanted some comfort for the boys. 
> 
> I'm on hour seven of hockey and my body has forgotten how to survive this long watching hockey boys. I'm so sleepy.  
> Unbeta'd so all mistakes are my own. Stay safe everyone!! <3
> 
> Happy hockey day!

Auston’s moving stiffly by the time they climb out of the car. He tries to hide it, moving slowly, gesturing for Mitch to go first, but he doesn’t miss the wince when he reaches for the door. Mitch doesn’t mention it until they’re in the elevator. It’s late at night and the elevator is empty save for them. His body is sore from the game, legs wrecked in a way they haven’t been in months. He’s missed the feeling but moving tomorrow is going to be a bitch. He can only imagine how Auston’s feeling.

“I thought the trainers worked on your back?” 

Auston, who’d been resting against the wall, eyes closed and the dark bags under his eyes even more pronounced than usual, squints at Mitch. 

“They did.” He grunts. 

“How bad is it?” Mitch rakes his gaze over Auston, taking in the stiff set of his shoulders, the hard line of his jaw. He’s sore, that much is obvious. It hadn’t looked too bad on the bench, and he’d been to see the trainers after they’d won their game in OT, but what if it was worse? What if he was hiding a more severe injury? He didn’t think Auston would hide something that could keep him off the ice, but Auston sometimes had a skewed idea of what he could or should withstand. 

The elevator stops at their floor and the doors slide open to reveal the silent hallway beyond. Auston pulls away from the wall with a soft groan and Mitch’s frown deepens. He’s got a couple of the trainers and the team doctors numbers in his phone, he doesn’t think they’d be too upset if he woke them up.

Auston must catch his worried gaze, because he reaches out, hand resting lightly on Mitch’s lower back.

“It seized up on the drive home,” he admits. 

“How bad is it?” Mitch asks again, voice pitched low in deference to the quiet around them. They reach their door and Mitch digs out his keys, careful not to dislodge Auston’s hand.

“My lower back feels like a giant knot.” 

Mitch winces in sympathy. He gets the door open, letting them in. Auston slides his coat off stiffly and Mitch takes it without a word, hanging it up on the hooks behind the door. He adds his and then slides silently to his knees as Auston goes to kick off his shoes. Mitch smooths a hand along his caff, works deft fingers through the laces and removes first one, then the other. They get placed to the side. He climbs back to his feet, pressing a quick kiss to Auston’s mouth.

“Go grab a hot shower, I’ll meet you in the bedroom.”

“I already showered at the rink,” Auston whines but he complies, shuffling away. 

“You’ll feel better!” Mitch calls after him. Auston grunts. 

He takes his time getting out of his shoes, loosening his tie as he wanders through the dark apartment. Neither of them have bothered with the lights, but they’ve been here long enough that Mitch manages to navigate the dark apartment with minimal bruising. He stops in the kitchen and grabs two bottles of water, then makes his way to their bedroom. The lights from the city filter in through the large windows in their living room with enough light for him to navigate by. 

He sets the bottles on one of the bedside tables, then strips out of his suit. It gets tossed over the back of a chair, where Auston will inevitably grouch about it later. He considers climbing in with Auston, if only because a wet Auston Matthews is a very tempting sight. The sound of the shower cuts off abruptly, making his decision for him. Instead, he grabs a pair of clean boxers and one of Auston’s threadbare Leaf shirts, changing quickly. By the time Auston wanders out, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist and hair damp and messy, Mitch is dressed with the duvet and sheets turned down on the bed, the bedside lamps casting a soft glow around the room. 

“C’mere,” he pats the bed, perching on the edge. Auston’s moving a little easier now, and he lets out a happy groan as he flops down on his belly, arms spread wide. Mitch huffs out a laugh at the display, leaning over to press a kiss to his shoulder.

“Thought I was getting a massage,” Auston mumbles, face squished into the mattress. 

“Impatient,” Mitch teases, shifting onto his knees. He tugs Auston’s towel down further, smile slipping when he sees the mess of bruises splattered across Auston’s lower back. It’s a smattering of yellows and greens but Mitch can already see where some will darken further. He trails his fingers lightly over the warm skin, feeling sick at the sight.

“Son of a bitch,” slips out, fueled by the rage at what the refs let them get away with. The Habs had been cross checking Auston most of the game, someone should have called it. Someone should have stepped up, but Auston had shaken most of it off and Mitch had figured everything was fine. 

“Hmm?” Auston’s eyes are half lidded, sleep heavy. 

“Nothing,” he says quickly. He straddles the backs of Auston’s knees, moving the towel out of the way. Stretched out before him, Auston is gorgeous, skin golden in the soft light and lightly freckled. His back rises and falls slowly, evenly, and Mitch wonders if he’ll be asleep before Mitch even gets his hands on him. The first game of the year and they’re all exhausted- there’s no time for a warm up, no preseason games, they have to give it their all right off the bat. 

Auston lets out a low groan as Mitch smoothes his hands across his skin, relaxing further as he slowly warms up tired muscles, drags his hands along the planes of his back and works at the tight knots along his lower back until Auston’s letting out happy little sounds. 

Mitch is exhausted himself, but he pushes it to the side for the moment, happy to give this to Auston, to make him feel good, especially in the face of all the abuse he took throughout their game. 

He can plan his revenge later.

Auston’s sound asleep by the time Mitch is finished. He can’t reach the lamp on Auston’s side without disturbing him, so he leaves it on, pulling up the duvet and sheets to cover them both. The mattress is the perfect side of firm and the duvet soft and cool against his skin. Sleep makes his limbs heavy, slow, but he manages to drag himself over, curl up against Auston. A heavy arm settles across his stomach as Auston reaches out for him, even in sleep and he lets himself be pulled closer until they’re tangled together, Auston’s warmth seeping into his aching muscles. He sighs, content, and is asleep between one breath and the next. 


End file.
